The Lost Year
by Aryus
Summary: AU. Dark. Zutara. The effects of the war are devastating. Zuko struggles to regain his dignity in his father's eyes as Katara desperately tries to hold onto her own in the face of the Fire Nation. The proverbial sheep in the lion's den.
1. Fire

AN: So, first Avatar fic, and I can honestly say I am unsure of how this process will go. That being said, I _can_ say that this fic will not be nice, or happy, or full of fuzzy feelings. It is on the darker side, so if that is not your cup of tea, turn back now. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

 **The Lost Year**

 **Chapter One**

 **Fire**

Arcs of fire burst into the air, moving with intensity through the dimming sky. Fists pump in alternating motions, each one rallying after the other, sending more flames out. It is a practiced sort of grace, one filled with power and temperance that can only come from disciplined, consistent practice.

The twittering of the birds is gradually replaced with the rhythmic chirping of the cicadas, each one transmitting a message to the other. Zuko does not stop pushing out fire, does not stop as near torrents of sweat rush down his back, does not stop even after all the other soldiers have long gathered inside to eat.

He will only stop when the last ray of sunlight has disappeared. Only then will he gradually relax his posture and let his breathing slow. To not push himself to his limit, each and every day, is to affirm his father's belief that he is worthless and unfit to be the Fire Lord, that he is unfit to be his _son_.

Zuko recalls with stinging shame the day his father cast him out of the royal family. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and he vaguely wonders if he will die trodden upon as though he were merely dirt. It does not escape him, the sneers and incredulous looks from the other boys in the ranks. What peasant, he thinks, hasn't lived for this day? The day they get to see a royal family member suddenly sent out to the slaughter like the rest of them.

It is an interesting dichotomy that Zuko has discovered in his two years at the academy…the royal family is respected and spoken about with a national pride, but when it comes down to the personal level, to the heart of it all, there is only growing disdain. And Zuko lives with the knowledge that his father will never understand this concept. As much as he wants his father's respect and love, he is not deaf to the talk that goes on within these cold walls. He knows there are murmurs of discontent, deep-seated hatred for the disparities in class.

Zuko believes that at this point, he must be taking his father's place in this miserable situation, paying his father's debts.

Wiping away the sweat from his brow with a worn towel, Zuko turns and walks into the mess hall, grabbing a bowl of unappealing food. It appears to have once been some sort of stew, but that is a past life long gone. He sits by himself, idly eating his food. By this point, he does not bother sitting with the other boys in his rank, or anyone for that matter. He is well aware of his true status in the academy, and it is nothing short of zero.

It doesn't matter anyway; he isn't here to make friends.

And he tells himself this later that night, when for the third time this month, the other boys in his dormitory have burned holes through his uniforms.

 _They don't matter_ , his mind whispers as he wills his eyes shut, losing himself to the cold vice of sleep.

* * *

The whip of fire slashing against skin is a sound Katara will struggle to forget, though she doesn't think she would ever really want to.

The iron ship hovering threateningly over their small South Pole water tribe is all encompassing. It is like a dark shadow, a plague, taking them over in one menacing sweep.

The Fire Nation soldiers step off the ship, their armor heavy and grim, making them look gigantic, almost devil-like with the flared shoulder plates and horned helmets. The captain steps out last, taking his time to walk down the plank, almost as if he were taking a casual stroll in a tea garden. He wears flashier clothing, clothing designed to impress and inform others of his rank. He is swathed in crimsons, vermilions, and black.

His presence is oppressive.

They demand the small tribe give up any and all of its waterbending healers. The tribe, the last twenty or so left of them, stare back in silence. Katara wonders if the captain can smell their fear. Her fear.

She idly glances at the other water tribe members near her, silently wondering if they would give up her position as the only waterbender left. Their faces, though fearful, show resolve.

They are a small unit, but they are united. There is no room for treachery in times like these.

"So no one wants to step up?" The captain sweeps his eyes, hard as flint, across the people, small, fearful and weak, before him. "It's no use staying silent – I know you have waterbenders."

Silence.

"…W-We…sent them o-off…" A frail old woman finally speaks, hesitantly, as if unsure she is giving him an answer he will accept. "All of our waterbenders and healers have joined the war efforts…"

The captain clasps his hands behind his back for a moment, merely rocking on his heels.

"You lie." It is an assertion.

"N-No! I promise! Promise!" The old lady yelps, the panic in her eyes giving her away.

"But it doesn't matter," The captain states, squaring back his shoulders as he sighs. "I know how to find them."

As if some magic words have been spoken, a solider standing behind him, to his right, immediately slams his right foot forward, pushing his left fist out as his does so, sending out a long snake of flames.

It immediately connects with the old woman's face, and she drops to the floor shrieking in pain. Her flesh is seared and she sobs in an instant, her wrinkled old hands flailing about her face, as if they know they have to soothe her skin but have no way of doing so.

Katara's ears are ringing with the old woman's screams and before she can stop herself, she rushes to her side, her hands already enveloped in a soft blue light as she touches them to the burned flesh.

Almost instantaneously, the flesh softens in color and heals, as if it has been reborn again. Katara fills with relief, despite knowing she has just revealed her status as a waterbender. The old woman looks at her, tears still in her eyes. She looks purposefully at Katara, as if to say _you shouldn't have done that_ , but Katara ignores it.

The captain smirks, satisfied with how quickly the water tribe has succumbed here in the South Pole. The poets and bards like to present water as some powerful force, strong and unpredictable. He laughs. The fires he creates cannot be put out by water. Water is nothing.

Katara, instantly feeling rage at the self-satisfied smirk on the captain's face, has little to time to act upon it. Instead, two Fire Nation soldiers clamp either side of her arms and haul her away. She shows little resistance, knowing that it is better she goes rather than any other tribe members. They are either children, old, or ill – their fate would simply be death.

She is pushed up the steel plank and into the bowels of the Fire Nation ship.

* * *

It isn't the first time Zuko has heard the whispers about his family. He normally doesn't give a damn, and often finds himself inclined to agree that yes, his sister Azula is indeed insane. But it is the talking about his mother that sends him off the edge.

"Did you hear about the Fire Lady? I hear she's not even a noblewoman…she's some peasant off an island somewhere. Who knew the Fire Lord would let a piece of ass ruin his judgment?" The young soldier barks with laughter amongst his friends.

Another pipes up, "Well, I _did_ hear she's a descendent of Avatar Roku…"

"Oh shut up," the first boy scowls. "Everyone knows the Avatar is some made up shit. It's just some propaganda by those high and mighty benders to make themselves stand out."

The other boys around him shrug their shoulders and move on, failing to notice Zuko approaching closer.

"What did you say?"

The first boy, presumably the ringleader, sees a shadow fall across the table, and turns around. He looks up to see the banished, ex-prince, Zuko. Fear momentarily alights in his eyes but then he adopts a sneer.

"Oh look, it's the son of a bitch, Zuko."

"What did you say?" Zuko repeats, refusing to rise to the name-calling baits.

The boy rolls his eyes. "Chill out, Scarface."

Zuko's eyes narrow. "You can say all the shit you want about me, but leave my mother out of this." He stalks off with a snarl, fists curled at his sides.

"You mean, it's not true?" The boy calls out in a lilting tone. "I mean, I don't know about you, Scarface, but I've heard she's slept around with half the noblemen by now…it's funny, isn't it? They say class is something you're born into, but she's living proof you can rise to the top! And you," he laughs, "you're living proof you can sink to the bottom!"

Before anyone can register anything, before Zuko can even think to control his temper, he lunges forward and his fist connects with the boy's face.

Other boys scramble out of the way as the punched boy slams into a bench and table.

Blood drips down the boy's nose and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. "You piece of shit."

He charges forward and Zuko easily sidesteps him, sending a low kick to the boy's feet.

The boy grunts in frustration before jumping up to his feet and balling a fist toward Zuko's face. It connects, but just barely. The boy manages to grab hold of Zuko's arm and twist it behind his back, muttering in his ear, "what's it like to be so pathetic, _prince_?"

Zuko, for a brief moment, sees flashes of red. He twists out of the grip and immediately sends a burst of fire toward the boy.

And it is over in an instant.

The boy is badly burned, lying on his back. His head lolls around aimlessly and other boys rush to his side before the attention of a commander is brought to the scene. Zuko feels the adrenaline rush out of his body as quickly as it came and vaguely wonders if he should run. But he knows it would be fruitless. Besides, he does not care about the consequences.

A portly commander looks away from the scene and locks his eyes on Zuko's lone figure standing off to the side.

"You." He stalks toward him, a scowl on his face. "Care to explain what you were thinking doing something like that?"

Zuko is unresponsive.

The commander's brow quirks in a spasm of irritation. "Show some respect when your superior is speaking with you!"

Zuko is lost in thoughts of his mother, father and the life he once had.

The commander's face grows red with ire, but merely spits out, "Go back to your dorm. Cleaning duty for the rest of the week."

* * *

It has been a month since Katara boarded the Fire Nation ship. She has claim only to a small room, with an even smaller bathroom attached to it, more fit to be a closet than anything else. There are a few sets of ugly robes laid upon her bed in the colors of the Fire Nation, though they appear dulled out from time and wear.

She opens her hand, where a worn water symbol pin rests cradled in her palm. She is not meant to wear it as a sign of honor but a sign of shame. She nearly laughs. Katara could never look upon her own heritage with anything but pride. She was proud to be from the South Pole. The Northern Water Tribe may have been more advanced, more stable…but the Southern Water tribe was her home, her strength.

Katara idly gazes around the sparsely furnished, dark room. She thinks she will need that inner strength now more than ever.

It is hard to not show fear though. She is fourteen years old, far from being considered a child, but she still feels as helpless as one.

Slowly, Katara pulls off her beloved Water Tribe blues and heads over to the small bathroom attached to her room. She fills the old, iron tub with water and bends it around herself, being sure to comb her fingers through her hair.

A bath is supposed to help one feel cleaner, but Katara feels slimy.

She steps out and with a brief second of hesitation, dons the red robes. They fit her well enough, but they are tattered and poorly spun. It had clearly taken the Fire Nation some time to find these ugly clothes, but after a month of roaming the ship in Water Tribe robes, she assumed they had had enough. She gathers her hair in between her fingers and deftly ties it into her classic braid with the bun, letting two tendrils of hair frame her face.

With pride, she gathers the small water symbol pin and fastens it to her collar. Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

"Y-yes…" she calls, unsurely.

"May I step in?"

It is the captain.

Katara fights to keep a derisive snort at bay. As if she could actually turn him away. The false niceties are overbearing.

"Yes, captain."

The captain ducks as he passes under the door frame, tall and imposing. He is dressed in his standard armors of black and reds.

He takes in her transformed appearance, no longer swathed in blues and whites. It is better, he thinks, but frowns upon seeing her hair.

Katara notices the small downward quirk of his lips and wonders what he has already found dissatisfying.

He moves toward her carefully with scrutiny all over his face.

"This," he grasps her braid, "will be unnecessary," he finishes, as he deftly tugs it out of its binds.

He grabs some of her long hair and pulls part of it up into a makeshift top knot while the rest tumbles down her back. "This will be much better."

Katara barely conceals her scowl. They were trying to mold her down to the very style of a Fire Nation woman. Why, she couldn't say. It was not as if they would ever regard her as anything other than a lowly Water Tribe citizen.

Still, she gives a slight bow of the head. The captain smiles and moves away, releasing her hair.

"Now, waterbender, due to your healing abilities, I have decided that you will be my personal healer. While it is a rare occurrence," Katara keeps from rolling her eyes at his self-worship, "I am still the captain, and I need to be as well as I can be at any given moment. I have been told waterbenders are among some of the best healers, I suppose to make up for their lack of any other real power."

Katara's fists tighten at her sides, but she lets the remark slide.

"In any case, I expect you to be the medic upon this ship, but I will be your first priority as needed. Do you understand?"

Katara gives a stiff bow and looks back up at him.

He is unreadable.

"Good." He turns to leave before taking one last glance at her. "Be sure to wear that pin, at all times."

The door closes, once again leaving Katara all alone.

* * *

AN: Welp, there you have it. Leave your thoughts, comments, crits if you wish~


	2. Youth

AN: Thank you all for the feedback, it is much appreciated! To answer the question of what "dark" means…in this context, it just means that the themes explored in here are not easygoing, surface-level issues. Think in the milieu of trauma, the effects of war, racism/classism, etc. Will this story have a happy ending? Can't say for sure, and also, it really just depends on what "happy" means to you, especially given the context. That's really all I can say at the moment!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

 **The Lost Year**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Youth**

When Zuko dreams, or at least, recalls his dreams, it is always of home. He dreams of the palace, his father, sometimes Azula…but he mostly lingers on his mother. She is ever the pillar of strength, the one he constantly goes back to in times of need.

He can't deny that while he misses her deeply and wonders about her whereabouts, he is angry. He is angry that she left him. She must have known she was leaving him in the lion's den, what with his father and Azula preying on him, dubbing him the weakest link. Why wouldn't she have taken him with her? He desperately wants his father's approval…but if it comes with the cost of having his mother gone, without a trace, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he would go with her.

But she left him, the writing is on the wall.

He bitterly remembers the last words she had told him, to never forget who he was.

Zuko tosses in his sleep, tugging the thin blankets with him.

He cannot forget who he was because he doesn't even know who he is anymore.

When he wakes the next morning, he is in a more irritable mood than ever. The sun is barely rising and Zuko is out the door in full uniform, an hour or so before everyone else stirs.

He returns to the one place he feels most in control, the training ground.

With a determined look, he slides into position and begins practicing well-versed firebending moves. He knows these like the back of his hand.

As he moves, he remembers with a tinge of embarrassment the time he performed in front of his grandfather, the previous Fire Lord. He had utterly humiliated himself, his grandfather, and his family. Azula had taken great pleasure in watching him crumble.

But not anymore.

With a cry of frustration, Zuko sends two large balls of fire into the air. Panting, he rests his hands on his knees as he leans over to catch his breath.

"Your form has improved greatly, Zuko."

Zuko spins around, eyebrows furrowed. He could've sworn he had been alone when he got out here.

The man approaches closer and Zuko's posture relaxes as he sees it is his uncle Iroh.

"Improvement isn't good enough. It has to be better. It _will_ get better," Zuko affirmed.

Iroh smiled. "Even so, Zuko. Not many have the discipline you do. I imagine you are on track to becoming a great firebender!"

Zuko glowers. "What about Fire Lord?"

Iroh opens his mouth but hesitates. Zuko seizes this moment, like a starving dog.

"What would you know about greatness, Uncle?" Zuko snarls. "If you were great, you would've been the next Fire Lord. But you're just relegated to training the next set of warriors."

Iroh does not take offense to Zuko's words. After all, he is largely unaware of the true circumstances regarding the throne. And he intends to keep him in the dark for as long as possible. It is no secret that the Fire Nation's royal family is broken, perhaps damaged beyond repair. But he will be the best role model he can be for Zuko, even if he refuses to let him in.

"You're right, Zuko. You know, I sometimes wonder if I really should've been a teabender!" He pats a hand to his round stomach and laughs heartily. Zuko does not share the same sentiments.

"What do you really want, Uncle?"

Iroh regains his composure and his face slides into the picture of absolute seriousness. "You have great discipline, Zuko, but you need to control that temper of yours. You can't go picking fights with others every time you get upset."

Zuko, with all his perfect timing, wants to howl in a rage at his Uncle, who presumes he knows everything. But for once, he begrudgingly follows his uncle's advice. He cannot look weak. His uncle, much to his annoyance, is right. If he loses control all the time, he will never be taken seriously.

"Is that all, Uncle?" Zuko replies tersely.

Iroh gives a slight nod. As he turns to walk back inside the building, he pauses.

"Oh! That reminds me. There are plans to begin heading for the North Pole."

"North Pole?" Zuko repeats incredulously. "What is there in the north?"

"The Northern Water Tribe has been particularly staunch in adopting a neutral stance, despite its sister tribe being in serious peril. I suppose the Fire Nation would like to see what sort of, ah…message…they can send. If anything, we are always in search of skilled healers." Iroh shrugs his shoulders.

"Why would we need Water Tribe healers? We've got enough skilled medics here in the Fire Nation, don't we?"

Iroh smiles. "Your faith in the Fire Nation is uplifting. But waterbenders are particularly skillful in the healing arts. They understand better than any others how the body works…water is all about change, after all. The body changes when it is wounded, but it also changes when it is healed."

Zuko snorts, starting off into the sunrise. His uncle is delusional.

"In any case, the Fire Nation navy will be setting its course for the north, and I will be joining them."

Zuko stares back, incredulously. He has never considered that his uncle would be an active participant on the battlefield. Not since Ba Sing Se…he frowns to himself, suddenly ashamed for letting his temper get the best of him. He knows his uncle means well, and he also knows his uncle is too forgiving.

"When do you go?" Zuko asks, refusing to make eye contact with his uncle.

"The ship leaves tomorrow. We are supposed to hopefully join with the Admiral's forces soon enough."

Zuko bites back a snarl at the mention of a man he loathes and sets his lips into a thin line as he walks past his uncle.

He is being left behind again, and he wonders if anything is ever permanent in this life.

* * *

Sokka used to dream about the day he would join the war efforts. He idolized his father – still does – and wanted nothing more than to join him as a fellow Southern Water Tribe warrior. He recalls the days he would sit honing and polishing his beloved boomerang, knowing that his fourteenth birthday was just around the corner.

And then it finally happened. He had donned the wolf's pelt and paint smeared across his skin as he was initiated into the Southern Water Tribe's ranks.

And now, he sits aboard the ship, eyes glazing over as he watches the clouds drift by. War was decidedly boring. All his life he had thought there were battles to be fought, enemies to defeat…what nobody told him was that ninety percent of the time, he was sitting…whether it was on a boat, on the dirt…sitting. A whole _lot_ of sitting.

He frowns, recalling Katara's sour disposition the day he turned fourteen. She had been a year younger and irritated at being left behind. She wanted to join the war efforts too, she had demanded. Sokka had laughed in her face, reminding her that not only was she not of age, but she was a girl. Girls had no place in the war.

Katara had sent a slap of water his way, and he cursed her ability to bend.

Now though, three years since that day, he is wryly wondering if he should let Katara know that it isn't all it's cracked up to be.

He frowns, suddenly noticing he has not heard from Katara in awhile…a while being what…nearly two and a half years? Sokka hangs his head backwards as he leans on his elbows against the ship's railing. He supposes two and a half years isn't too long to go without hearing any news. Besides, no news is good news, right? And news was hard to transmit, what with never sticking around in one place for too long…that, and it wasn't safe to send too many messages nowadays…

Sokka is surprised it has been this long. He feels like time has simultaneously flown but also come to a grinding halt. Part of him believes that if he were to step back on the Southern Pole, the tribe would be as he left it. He knows this is foolish, but at the same time, it helps keep him sane.

He snaps out of his reveries and stares ahead. The boat is floating along at a lofty pace. They have set course for the Northern Water Tribe after helping the Earth Kingdom near the Chameleon Bay. The Fire Nation had been attempting to focus its efforts on Ba Sing Se, but that had proven difficult for them.

Omashu, he has heard, is proving to be another story.

Despite this, it has been decided that the best route is to appeal to their sister tribe to join the efforts. The Northern Water Tribe has been maintaining a state of neutrality, preferring to keep itself safe at all costs.

Sokka finds it is just another way for the north to laud its achievements over the south. The Southern Water Tribe may be small and outnumbered by virtually every other nation, but at least it has spirit, Sokka thinks. That's more than he can say for the uptight Northern Water Tribe.

Snippets of conversation slowly drift out onto the deck, and Sokka perks his ears, wondering if battle plans are being discussed and just why was he not around if that is the case?

Upon edging closer, he is able to better hear the voices coming from inside the cabin. It is his father, Hakoda, talking amongst a few other men. He can pick out Bato's voice from among the others, his father's right hand man.

"…Chief Arnook has clung to the Northern Water's Tribe stance of neutrality. He seems unwilling to listen to reason." Bato.

"I hear it is his daughter, the princess. He worries about her welfare. She has always been a sickly child, saved only by the grace of the Moon Spirit." Another voice.

"Well, I cannot blame him. But in times of war, we cannot act for selfish reasons." Hakoda.

Sokka finds himself silently nodding in agreement. Just who did this Chief Arnook think he was, blocking the Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water Tribe from added support? He knows the Northern Water Tribe, as pretentious as it is, has many skilled warriors and capable waterbenders. Katara had always envied their ability to practice their craft under the tutelage of a waterbending master.

In any case, princess, unwell or not, was no reason to put a halt to war efforts, was it? Sokka grumbles. What about the villagers back in the southern pole? Did their daughters and sons not matter? And just what the heck is this nonsense about _moon spirits_?

He frowns.

It is best, he thinks, if the Northern Water Tribe starts to reconsider their position.

* * *

Tonight, the captain – now admiral – storms into his private quarters, and he is angrier than ever. The Earth Kingdom, as shoddy as it appeared at times, had managed to ambush their fleet while en route to the northern pole. Looking back, the admiral realizes they had drifted too near their territory, particularly close to a port city. It would have been beneficial to have taken it over, but the Earth Kingdom had managed to fend them off well enough. The Fire Nation fleet was lucky enough to defend itself and escape. The admiral had miscalculated, and miscalculations were unacceptable.

He snorts, smoke blowing out from his nostrils. As he sits, he can finally start to feel the sting in his knuckles. He had gone overboard with his firebending. His old master had always admonished him for it, but power is what gets the job done. And he would, without a doubt, make all the other nations submit.

For now, he decides it is best to get his burns and other wounds healed. He can also feel the bruise from a stray boulder that had smartly hit his chest. Upon recalling that event, he snarls. The Earth Kingdom is proving to be burdensome.

"Lieutenant!" He barks through the door. A man quickly opens the door to his private quarters and bows.

"Yes, Admiral Zhao?"

"Send in the water tribe girl. I have some minor wounds that need seeing to." He makes sure to mention the wounds are minor. He cannot have his crew thinking he is weak, especially after today.

"Yes, Admiral Zhao." The lieutenant bows before shutting the door behind him and trotting off to fetch the healer.

Mere minutes later, a soft knock sounds at his door. It is Katara.

She enters upon his grunt of admission.

Her face is a mask, as it always has been when in the presence of the admiral.

His golden eyes narrow. At times, Zhao finds that look of defiance in her eyes so aggravating. Sometimes, he ignores it, but tonight, he is in rare form.

He used to believe he had broken her, long ago when he arrived on the pathetic southern pole…but now he sees that she is still holding onto something – what that something is, he cannot fathom – but he will break her.

* * *

AN: There you have it! Chapter two up and running. Shorter than I wanted, but that's the way it divvied up. Let me know your thoughts, comments, questions, etc.


	3. Water

AN: Forgive me if this chapter comes off as disjointed…I've been very busy with other things and editing through this one sporadically…doesn't help that I didn't initially write them in the order they're being presented! In any case, thank you to those who have taken the time to comment! It's so fun hearing your guesses for what will happen!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

 **The Lost Year**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Water**

They dress her in tattered robes of scarlets, garnets, and rubies. Her long, brown hair is left down save for the topknot fashioned in the style of the Fire Nation. She is dressed like any other Fire Nation citizen, except for the blue water symbol pin fastened to her shirt collar.

They will dress her in their colors, but she will never be one of them. Her tan skin and bright, blue eyes are a constant reminder that she is not one of them. She is a water tribe peasant.

But it does not matter. She has one purpose to them and that is to heal. Medics exist, but it is no secret that waterbenders possess a higher mastery of the art of healing. They are scum, but they are useful, the Fire Nation seems to believe.

For the last two and a half years, Katara has been by the captain's – now admiral – side, serving as his personal healer. He is one of the most valued military leaders in the Fire Nation, commanding the navy with a fierceness that is borne of firebenders. A powerful firebender such as the admiral is in constant need of a skilled healer.

Katara does what she is expected to do. Her rebellion is quiet and demure. She spends time with the admiral, but when she is alone, she sneaks into his office, long after he has abandoned it for the rare moments of sleep he gives into. His library, she has discovered, possesses a plethora of knowledge regarding different types of bending.

She does not take the time to ponder why a firebender would bother holding onto scrolls about other types of bending, but she soaks up what she can. She is already an adept waterbender, but the scrolls show her more than she could ever dream of. It shows her how to be more than a healer; it shows her how to fight.

But these are skills she cannot dream of using, not now at least. Her position, while granting her many freedoms other non-firebenders could only dream of having, leaves her in a precarious state. She knows she is under the admiral's watchful eyes. He trusts her…to an extent.

She is still kept under a watchful eye, though the precautions have relaxed. She once used to be checked on daily, then every other day, then weekly, and now, rarely. They no longer lock her in her room either. In a way, it keeps her on her toes. However, her room is bare, save for the bed and a few other pieces of dull furniture. To hide the scrolls she finds is a risky feat, and so she settles for her sporadic nightly studies, practicing on her own later in her room with the dismal bath water.

Tonight, Katara assumes her usual position when she is called, placing the basin of water on the low table. She tucks her knees under her as she sits next to the admiral. She dips her hands in the cool water, eyes fixated on her hands as they start to glow softly.

Zhao will never admit it openly, but he remains transfixed, as always, with the way she is able to so easily manipulate the water into a healing element. His eyes flicker to her face, but she is focused on guiding the water. Her profile is in sharp relief.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels the cooling sensation of Katara's hands gently grasping his burnt, bleeding, and cracked knuckles. The glow envelopes his hand and the water moves silently around the wound, and he can feel it slowly heal. The bleeding stops and the cracks seemingly stitch themselves back up, new flesh sealing over the old.

Katara makes quick work of his other hand, pats her own dry on the front of her skirts, and makes to get up, but the admiral's pointed cough stops her movements in their tracks.

"One more."

Katara watches with apprehension as the admiral removes his tunic with ease. She then catches sight of the blooming purples and greens across his chest. She takes quiet satisfaction upon seeing such an injury, regretting the fact that she would have to erase its existence.

Once again, Katara settles back on the floor next to the admiral and heals the bruise as best she can. It is a deeper wound, and while the healing arts of the waterbenders are powerful, big boulders smashing into muscle and bone can be more so. She silently applauds the earthbender who managed to pull this off.

As she moves to lean back, Zhao catches a tendril of hair between his thumb and forefinger. Katara freezes.

He smirks, noticing the slight arch in her brow and her sudden rigidness. It was quick and subtle, a "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" gesture, but Zhao knows his young healer well enough.

Zhao continues to finger the tendril caught in his grasp, absentmindedly noticing its soft texture. "You are an excellent healer," he comments offhandedly.

Katara, unsure of what else to say, "Thank you, Admiral."

"Oh, no need to be shy, _Katara_ ," he nearly hisses, a catlike smile on his face. Her name sounds so toxic on his lips. "I'd like to think you can call me Admiral _Zhao_."

Katara purses her lips. If she felt apprehensive before, she is fully on guard now.

Zhao is relishing the confusion and fear marring her normally defiant face. _Good_.

He moves from her hair to cupping her cheek with his rough palm. Katara fights the instinct to draw back sharply. She cannot for the life of her figure out what he is attempting. Her brows furrow in a mixture of confusion, irritation, and dread.

He leans in closer, so close he can see his image reflected back in her pupils.

"Are you afraid of me, Katara?"

She shudders, feeling trapped as the hand cupping her cheek moves to the back of her head, grasping it softly.

She sucks in a deep breath, and then, before she knows it, the wind is knocked out of her.

Katara gasps, nearly seeing stars before the ceiling of the admiral's room sharpens into view. She is on her back, prone on the floor by his bed, and the admiral is standing before her, hands curled into fists at his side. She doesn't know what to do, she doesn't know what she's _done_ , to elicit this response, but she feels terror.

"Ah, there it is," Zhao exhales softly. He kneels down, arm propped on one knee, as if inspecting a dead animal. She wonders vaguely if she will die. He could kill her easily. One didn't become admiral of the Fire Nation navy without having the strength and skill to back it up.

He roughly grabs her chin, forcing her to look into his hard, golden eyes.

And then he strikes her across the face.

Katara feels like the world is spinning. The sting of flesh upon flesh rings in her ears, a terrifying cacophony of sound. For some insane reason, Katara regains her bearings and immediately glares at Zhao, as if it is the natural order of things. He can beat her, throw her around, but she will never let go of her defiance, quiet as it may be.

Zhao's eyes narrow, and he suddenly knows how to get what he wants. He knows how to permanently get rid of that look.

"There are other ways to break you, Katara. Can you guess?" His lips slide into a sly smile. Katara refuses to take the bait, but her heart hammers wildly in her chest. She can guess, but she dares not say it aloud.

His right hand reaches to grip her delicate, feminine neck. It marvels him to think about how easy it would be to crush her windpipe. The rage from earlier builds back up inside him with a vengeance. He cannot tolerate failure, he cannot tolerate having zero control, but he needs to show it. If he cannot ruin the Earth Kingdom for the time being, he can at least find what he is after with the waterbender.

As his fingers grip her neck, his thumb rises to gently stroke her bottom lip. It is soft, as he imagined it would be. He couldn't deny that despite being trash, she was still pleasant to look at. There were no women on the ship, and even Zhao could see she was growing in such ways that garnered attention. He didn't miss the way his subordinates eyed her, out of the corners of their eyes. A hungry look always lay latent on their faces, and Zhao knew they wished to try out the little Water Tribe girl.

Well, as admiral, he will be the first.

With sudden speed and little warning, the admiral's lips descend upon Katara's. Her cries are muffled.

Zhao removes his hand from her neck, granting her a sweet relief, before he slams both her shoulders down on the floor. Before she can register what is happening, the admiral fills her vision. He is on top of her, trapping her legs between his own.

Katara can feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, but she wills them away. She cannot submit.

She struggles with her upper body as much as she can, but her movements are limited. Her thrashing is brought to an abrupt halt when she feels a calloused palm push the collar of her shirt roughly to the side. The hand does not stop its conquest there, moving to glide over the skin hiding beneath. He gives her left breast a quick squeeze, one that completely encapsulates everything his other actions are demonstrating: _I own you_.

Katara feels bloodless. Her mind is spinning, a whirlpool of fleeting thoughts. She is grasping for anything that makes sense but is left with nothing. Never before in these two and a half years had Zhao done anything to even suggest he saw her as anything more than a healer, a Water Tribe peasant. Was there something she had missed? Some clue?

Air meets her bare skin and shocks Katara back to reality. Zhao finally lets go of his claim on her lips, breathing hard.

He knows that for a moment, even if it is fleeting, he has scared her.

Zhao then makes the mistake of looking down at the waterbender trapped between his legs and can't help but take in her appearance. Her brown hair is wild and fanned around her, framing her face. Her blue eyes are half-lidded, a darker hue than normal and he wonders faintly, incredulously, if she feels lust. It is hard to not feel his own pressed against her stomach.

He catches sight of her exposed flesh and fights to keep a groan locked inside. Even he cannot deny how long it has been since he has lain with a woman. And Katara is certainly proving to be one, Water Tribe or not. She is of marriage age, after all.

Zhao nearly laughs at how his own plan to break her has nearly undone him. His impulsivity has once again gotten the best of him.

He rises to his feet, and Katara suddenly feels air rush back into her lungs. She quickly sits up and scoots away, tugging her robes up as she does so. Her eyes remain averted, staring at some miniscule detail on the red carpet before her.

Zhao takes her form in, noticing how small and frail she looks. The thought doesn't escape his notice again, how easily he could crush her.

But for once, Zhao wants to practice the art of patience. He wants to make her submit, and he will. Slowly. He knows he can physically ruin her, but it is her mind he is after, her will. And just like the Earth Kingdom, she will crumble, sooner or later.

Zhao dismisses her from his quarters and lets a small smile grace his lips when he hears the door quickly click shut.

"We are just getting started, Katara of the Water Tribe."

* * *

For the first time in months, Katara succumbs to fleeting images and memories of her home. She thinks about her father, Sokka, Gran Gran…her mother. Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she dwells on the person she misses most, has always missed.

It scares her that as time passes by, her mother becomes less of an image and more of an abstract concept. The whole picture becomes distorted and soon she remembers only flashes of her mother's eyes, her smile; she sometimes recalls her mother's voice drifting softly through the air, and Katara fights the urge to cry.

What she wouldn't give now to be held by her mother, her sweet, strong, loving mother.

She wonders if it is the fate of Water Tribe women, to forever be the victims of ruthless Fire Nation men. They had killed her mother and she was sure they would kill her, too.

She lies back on her flimsy mattress, missing the feel of her soft furs. The memories of the night before repeatedly slam against the weak mental dam she has erected. It's as if everything that she never noticed or cared to notice about Zhao suddenly dominates her senses. She recalls his rough touch, the crinkles around his hard eyes, the smell of cologne and ash.

Most of all, she remembers how utterly powerless she felt. She thought she was strong, defiant, silently holding onto her strength…but last night's events have brought about startling thoughts.

Katara needs to escape, now more than ever. She refuses to let this be her fate.

She thinks about the scrolls she has seen in Zhao's office, the different attack and defense techniques that come with the waterbending territory. If she can just get her hands on them again, for longer, she is certain she can become stronger. Her waterbending is already at a skill level higher than most her age, mostly self-taught, and she is determined to continue advancing.

Zhao's words echo in her mind, " _Are you afraid of me, Katara?_ "

"No," she voices aloud to an empty, dark room.

* * *

Zuko secures double blades to his back before donning a mask to hide his face.

Today, the small group of ships is set to leave for the north, and he will not stay behind.

He has spent most of his waking moments since the morning before wondering whether or not he should leave, and he has decided. He has no purpose at the academy, but out across the sea, taking part in real battles? _That_ is his purpose.

Going toward the Northern Water Tribe does not appear to help him in his ultimate goal of winning his father's admiration and respect, but then he thinks, perhaps getting further away from the throne, his honor, will bring him back closer to it.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight. How very Iroh of him to think that…

In any case, Zuko has already decided his place is with the rest of the soldiers. Everyone has severely underestimated him, and he will finally have the chance to prove that he is worthy of respect.

He has no idea what going to the north will do for the Fire Nation's plans, but it suddenly feels like the most natural place to go, the place where things will start to make sense for him. There is no real plan, but Zuko feels as if he has been grasping at straws at this point.

Checking to make sure he has his belongings, Zuko slips out of the academy's walls, slinking around the grounds. He scales a low wall and can see the sun gradually rising in the east.

There is not much time before the small group of ships departs.

He ducks back down, keeping to the shadows as best as he can while approaching the main ship. People are helping load cargo and weaponry, seemingly distracted.

He narrows his golden eyes through the mask, searching for something. And then he sees it.

The anchor's chain.

Checking to see if the others are still preoccupied, Zuko darts just toward the pier before clambering down the muddy banks next to it. Coming to a stop, he then slowly descends into the dark water as he lifts back his mask. He swims as swiftly and quietly as possible before grasping the chain with a gloved hand. He sputters out some water before swiping his mask back into place.

He is close.

Drawing in a deep breath, he begins to climb up the chain, his muscles pulling taut with every inch he moves.

Eventually, he is able to pull himself over the bow of the ship. He lands softly on the deck, taking a few moments to survey the scene before moving down lower into the heart of the ship.

For now, he will wait. He will find the opportune moment to ambush some hapless soldier and steal his uniform.

Zuko knows he is taking a big risk. He will most likely be labeled a deserter when the academy find he is no longer present. And he does not care because this has never been something he wanted or asked for. They can replace him as they replace all others. After all, wasn't that all the academy was? A way to bring in new recruits for the soldiers that had fallen in battle?

He scoffs. He is capable of so much more.

And he will show them all.

* * *

AN: As always, feel free to leave thoughts/comments/crits~


	4. Plans

AN: Fourth chapter up and running! Thank you for all the continued feedback - it means a lot!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

 **The Lost Year**

 **Chapter Four**

 **Plans**

Zuko keeps hidden, one hand on the hilt of a sword strapped to his back at all times. He is growing impatient, waiting for the right time to strike. The ship has begun its trek, but as of yet, Zuko has not been able to isolate a soldier as quickly as he has hoped.

His posture relaxes as he grows wearier. He has not slept since the night before, too overcome with anxiety and doubts. Perhaps he _was_ being foolish. Then again, he reasons, staying behind would have been no better.

As he feels himself starting to drift into unconsciousness, he hears it.

The sound of an approaching soldier.

He pulls himself up back into form, his hand tightening on the hilt of a sword. Zuko has been hiding in one of the cabins, waiting, and now it is paying off.

He listens intently to the clueless soldier who is idly whistling to himself, unaware of the hidden figure poised to strike in his room.

As the soldier enters his cabin, Zuko gingerly steps away from behind the door and closes it softly, steadily prowling closer.

The man frowns behind his own mask, sensing another presence, but it is too late.

Zuko slams the hilt of one of his swords against the back of the soldier's head, and despite the protective outerwear, he is out like a light. Zuko frowns, wondering if it was too easy. Staring at the unconscious soldier on the ground, he shrugs.

In a matter of minutes, Zuko has replaced his own outfit with that of a Fire Nation's soldier. The soldier is stripped to his underwear and remains blissfully unaware of his new circumstances. Zuko pities him momentarily for what he is about to do.

He makes his way over to the door and checks outside, right and left. Seeing the coast is clear, he turns to the nearly naked man and hoists him up over his shoulder. The man proves to be heavier than he looks, but Zuko manages to drag him to the back of the boat, up on the main deck where no one appears to be loitering about.

With one decisive toss, the man is thrown overboard with a splash.

Zuko quickly walks away, shrugging to himself. The water will wake him up. Hopefully he swims.

He freezes when he hears the voice of his uncle out on the front of the deck.

"Did you hear that, Captain?" He questions, tilting his head to the side. "I could've sworn it sounded like something falling in the water. Perhaps someone."

The captain offers nothing but a shrug.

Iroh laughs. "Ah well, a little swim never hurts anyone! How about a nice, relaxing game of pai sho?"

Zuko breaths a quiet sigh of relief.

* * *

It has been two nights now since what Katara has simply labeled "the encounter."

She has yet to see Zhao and she hopes that at this point, he has lost interest in her. It is a good thing, she thinks, when he is so angry that he is driven to taking it out on her, because this means he has suffered a setback. She knows the Earth Kingdom has managed to outwit him, and that never works well for Zhao.

However, she cannot, and will not, allow him to do so again.

There will not be a next time, because Katara has finally managed to grab hold of the scrolls she has so desperately coveted.

She practices late at night, when most of the soldiers who are supposed to be on patrol either drink themselves into a stupor or fall asleep. Usually both.

Zhao has made himself scarce, and she supposes that is for the best.

Katara fills her iron tub with water and gently guides the liquid the way the scrolls depict. She struggles, attempting to perfect the finesse of the drawn figures on the scrolls. It is hard when there is little space and hardly any targets.

She growls in frustration as she attempts to create larger waves in the tub. They climb up a foot, two feet, before they pool back together with the rest. It seems like a simple enough move and yet she is failing too easily. Katara nearly screams before reining back her temper.

She needs to be calm like the water.

Breathing in deeply, she opens her eyes once more and concentrates on the unmoving liquid before her. It rises up, higher, higher, before it once again falls with a hapless slap.

This is progress, Katara consoles herself before continuing to practice.

After nearly an hour of attempting the same move, she has finally gotten the water to rise high above her head, and she could raise it higher still save for the ceiling overhead. Instead, she lets it gently fall back into its pool and gives a satisfied smile.

These are the times she wishes she had a waterbending master to teach her, but for now, this will do.

She thumbs through the other scrolls, her eyes glazing over with sleep until she catches sight of one buried between the others.

Katara frowns as her eyes rove over the images, trying to make sense of them. The poses and movements are unlike others she has seen. The scripture next to it is faded, but then she sees the word that ties it all together.

Bloodbending.

Katara has never heard of this, but she feels as if she has laid eyes upon something forbidden. Something that should not be seen.

But she has, and she is curious.

As she reads through the faded text, it starts to make horrifying sense. The body is composed of a lot of water after all...it would then stand to reason that if one can control water, one can control the body.

She cannot peel her eyes away from the pictures. Katara breathlessly wonders if _this_ was the kind of offensive attack she has been needing in her arsenal this whole time. But the thought makes her grimace. To control another's body? Katara shivers.

As she reads through the scrolls, memorizing everything she is seeing, she discovers that power like this needs help of the full moon. Even the most talented of waterbenders rely upon the moon's strength to pull off bending like this.

Katara realizes the full moon is fast approaching, and she bites her lip. Part of her reasons that she should forget she ever saw this scroll. She does not know why, but it feels wrong to have such knowledge.

But then flashes of Zhao and his actions pass through her mind and she is overwhelmed with sudden rage.

Katara freezes as she realizes she has nearly caused her palms to bleed from how tightly her fists grip the scroll. Her brows furrow together and she tosses the scroll away from her in a sudden motion, the parchment helplessly fluttering to the ground.

She then turns to the tub and resumes practicing pushing and pulling the water.

* * *

They are fast approaching the North Pole, and Sokka is relieved. He has been craving _real_ food since they left the last city.

He polishes his boomerang, humming softly to himself. He thinks about the war, about his family, about weird concepts like _moon spirits_ and nearly laughs.

The north loves to parade around their superior status, but at least the Southern Water Tribe isn't insane.

Though he cannot help but wonder what living in the north must be like. To be so free from the war and its effects...it's a miracle the Fire Nation hasn't annihilated them. Though he has heard it is a far more advanced place than its sister tribe, so perhaps it is able to defend itself better.

Or maybe the Fire Nation sees no value in what the northern and southern poles have to offer.

He pauses, catching a large shadow glide overhead. Sokka rubs his eyes and then shrugs. He must be seeing things. Being out in the sun all day was making him delirious.

As he continues his work lovingly, nearly crooning to his boomerang, he sees the shadow dart across once more.

"Okay, I know I'm not seeing things…" he mutters to himself.

As he looks around, the shadow begins to come closer and closer.

"INCOMING!" A voice shouts.

Sokka looks up, paling at what he sees.

The underbelly of a flying... _cow_?

"SOKKA!" His father shouts as he rushes toward him with fellow warriors in tow.

As if suddenly realizing that he has not been dreaming, Sokka manages to scramble out of the way, clutching his boomerang tightly.

A large thud hits the boat and it immediately starts tipping into the water, bow first.

"Woah!" A young boy yelps, strangely enough sitting atop the flying cow thing. Sokka is faintly aware of the boat's stern slowly meeting the sky.

"Get off the ship! Get off the ship!" Several warriors begin shouting, gesturing wildly at the rapidly disappearing bow.

"Yip yip! Appa! Come on, buddy! Wake up!" The boy exclaims, snapping the reins frantically.

In what feels like several minutes, the large beast finally opens its eyes before letting out a low growl and lifting up off the ship. The boat overcorrects and the bow violently arcs up before righting itself as a wave of water pushes past.

The flying cow thing descends back into the water on its back as its rider leaps off on his glider and circles about in the air before finally planting his feet on the boat.

"Hi! I'm Aang, and that's Appa!" He smiles, snapping his glider closed.

The warriors stare back helplessly.

"That...thing...what is that...thing," Sokka gestures lamely to Appa who continues to contentedly float on his back.

"That thing," the boy dubbed Aang replies as he dusts tufts of Appa's fur off his shoulder, "is my sky bison!"

"Oh…" Sokka whispers, as if the answer somehow makes sense, which it does not.

"Sorry about the rough landing! Appa's a little rusty with flying, and we've been traveling for nearly two days straight. I guess he got a little tired and well…" Aang smiles sheepishly.

"Those tattoos," Sokka's father approaches, seemingly stunned out of his silence. "Are you...an airbender?"

"I sure am!" Aang chirps. "I've been trying to look for the other nomads, but I can't seem to find them…" he trails off. "Appa and I woke up from a big iceberg thanks to some huge ship crashing into us.

"We were really lucky to drift out to a small village. A kind old lady told me if I needed answers that I should probably head to the north."

Sokka's mouth hangs open. This Aang character has spoken without pause, but Sokka is still stuck on the "iceberg" part.

Hakoda, meanwhile, frowns.

The young boy in front of him is an airbender.

Does he not realize that the airbenders have long since been wiped out?

"Well, in any case, mind if Appa and I join you guys for awhile? I don't think he'll be able to travel for a bit," Aang states, glancing over the side of the ship to a peacefully dozing Appa in the water.

Sokka glances warily at Aang and then shifts his gaze to Hakoda.

Hakoda nods, a small smile on his face. "We are also heading for the North Pole. You are welcome to travel with us until then, Aang."

Aang beams, and Hakoda decides he does not have the heart to let Aang know that he can search, but he will unlikely be able to find anyone else of his kind.

* * *

Iroh may appear to be a bumbling fool, but he would be downright daft to not recognize his nephew ambling about in his awkward posture, armor or not; he lacks the true confidence to stand up straight and proud.

He has had a feeling since after their conversation that morning on the training grounds that Zuko had a fire that was only burning more fiercely inside of him. Zuko may never acknowledge it, but Iroh knows that he is the only real family he has left and being left behind again must simply be unbearable. There is no counting on people such as his father or Azula - they have long ago decided Zuko is unworthy of their time.

But Iroh wonders what Zuko is getting out of tagging along to the north. His nephew, while full of heart and dedication to goals, tends to not think things through. He is wildly passionate to a fault, and it shows in his firebending.

Iroh only wishes that Zuko would look inside himself to truly understand who he is and what he wants. His father and sister may have decided that worthiness is based on power, but does Zuko truly believe that?

Iroh sadly shakes his head.

In any case, he will keep a watchful eye on Zuko. He is curious to see just what he is attempting.

Perhaps he will even be surprised.

* * *

Zhao roves over the maps on his desk, brows furrowing together.

They are setting course for the north, and this time, the Fire Nation will be sure to leave an impression. The Northern Water Tribe has gone on long enough refusing to be part of this war, and if they will not help the Fire Nation's cause, they will burn like the rest.

It aggravates him when he thinks of the loss he suffered at the port city just under a week ago. The Earth Kingdom is proving to be a menace, even its smaller parts.

But how difficult can the water tribe be? The water tribes tend to act as though they are pacifists. Really, Zhao thinks, they are more like cowards.

In any case, if they do not willingly submit, then he already knows what he will do.

He pulls out a few pieces of paper from a drawer in his desk and smirks. Wan Shi Tong's library had proven to be useful. The waterbenders draw the majority of their power from the moon, while the firebenders draw from the sun. But what happens when the moon is destroyed?

Well, Wan Shi Tong, ever the curious spirit, had gathered all the evidence he needed in one place for him, and he knows how to do it.

Zhao leans back in his seat and lets out a small laugh.

Even if the water tribe does submit, it doesn't matter. His plan is far too great to leave merely an idea. There are repercussions to this plan of course, but Zhao brushes them aside with little thought.

He is holding the north in the palm of his hand, and they are oh so delicate.

His mind then drifts to a certain waterbender in particular and smiles.

* * *

AN: Well, there's Aang's appearance for you! I'd like to think that if Sokka and Katara hadn't approached him, this would be an Aang-like entrance. Maybe it's just me. I realize the pacing is a little slow for the time being, and there's several POVs in this chapter, but hopefully by the next one, that will all change! As always, please leave your thoughts/comments/crits, I love knowing what you readers think.


	5. Blood

AN: Wowzers, I took way too long to update, so deepest apologies. To make up for it, I'd say quite a bit happens in this (kind of?) and it's the longest chapter yet!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.

 **The Lost Year**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Blood**

They finally arrive to the north. It is awe-inspiring and impressive, more so than Sokka could have ever imagined. He has been regaled with tales in his youth of what the Northern Water Tribe looks like, but to see it now, in person and all its glory - the tales were severely understating what the north truly possessed.

Waterbenders stand atop tall walls of ice and snow, allowing the Southern Water Tribe ships passage into the city. Compared to the small Southern Water Tribe, the north is practically an empire. To think that the Fire Nation largely ignored them is baffling to Sokka.

His attention from the city is momentarily pulled away by the young airbender next to him. He is entertaining himself by making a funnel of air between the palms of his hands, like a spinning top. Sokka finds it more than strange. Katara's waterbending was enough to take in most days...now an airbender? Whatever happened to good old boomerangs?

"So...Aang...icebergs, huh?" Sokka begins, glancing at Aang before casually looking up at the sky. "How did you manage that and...live?"

Aang belatedly looks up at Sokka. "Oh...yeah, I don't know," he shrugs, rubbing the back of his head. "It's hard when I try to remember what happened. It feels like it was something bad...something scary. But I must've done it to protect myself and Appa."

Sokka's eyes narrow ever so slightly. He is curious but also suspicious. He is not fully convinced the airbender is being entirely truthful. For the moment, he does not press and instead turns his attention back to the current surroundings.

As they enter the port, Sokka sees several Northern Water Tribesmen awaiting their arrival. Among them, one figure stands out.

She is draped in purple cloth trimmed with white furs. Her hair is elegantly done up and most notably, it is white. But it doesn't look strange when it comes to this girl; she somehow manages to look even better, not that Sokka knows what she would look like with any other hair color. But it is her soft, blue eyes that catch his attention and her pale pink lips.

Sokka is smitten, and he has already decided he needs to know her name.

Aang awkwardly coughs and elbows the young warrior in the side. "Sokka...you're kind of staring," he whispers, not so subtly inclining his head toward the direction of the girl.

Sokka lazily slaps away Aang's arm and smiles upon making eye contact with the girl.

She merely lifts a hand up to cover the sound of her laughter.

Sokka doesn't know what to think about the North _just yet_...but he is willing to give them a chance.

* * *

A hawk glides through the air, making swoops to the left, then right, before lazily spiraling down toward the general.

Attached to its claw is a small parchment of paper with a wax seal of the Fire Nation. Iroh frowns as he releases the bird from its duty, briefly watching it soar off before returning his attention to the paper in his hand. He can take a few guesses as to what the contents contain.

As he opens it, Iroh's eyes rapidly scan through the letter, and it is just as he suspected. The army has discovered Zuko's disappearance, and he has been labeled a deserter to the Fire Nation. Iroh looks up, staring out at the open sea. He knew this was coming, but he does not necessarily know what to do with the information.

The letter does not seem to provide any assistance either, merely stating that his nephew will be taken, dead or alive, should the Fire Nation run into his whereabouts. This is not too startling, despite Zuko hailing from the royal family. His brother is vicious, something Iroh has been trying to let Zuko know. But Zuko is steadfast in his goals of restoring his honor in his father's eyes.

Just then, Iroh hears the unsure footsteps that can only belong to Zuko. Despite his attempts to blend in as a self-assured soldier, Zuko is still unsure, still hesitant and nervous...Iroh nearly chuckles at his nephew's earnest attempt to infiltrate the Fire Nation ship.

Iroh folds the parchment of paper in his hands and tucks it into his sleeve before cheerily walking toward Zuko.

He sees Zuko stand to attention at his presence, and Iroh merely strolls past. "A nice day today, isn't it, Lieutenant?" As he walks by, a slip of paper is pressed into the soldier's hand. "You must be careful, Zuko. I will protect you the best I can, but you need to be vigilant." His golden eyes give a sideways glance as he continues walking past.

The soldier stands still, limply grasping the paper at his side, amazed but unsurprised all the same that his uncle was able to tell who he was. He isn't the Dragon of the West for nothing, he supposes.

When Iroh disappears from view, Zuko slowly lifts up his right hand and unfolds it to see the crumpled paper in his palm. He unfolds it gently, almost as if dismantling a bomb, and reads.

He is surprised and unfazed all at the same time. _Dead or alive_. Perhaps he overestimated his worth and the weight of his honor.

Slowly, he crumples the paper and slips it into his shirt.

This is perhaps what his uncle has meant when he said Zuko needed to figure out what it is he truly wants - to figure out his own destiny.

Zuko looks up at the sky, feeling more than the weight of just his armor. That's just the problem...who is he outside of his search for honor?

* * *

Katara inhales a deep breath of air before slowly opening her eyes. A knock has sounded at her door and the voice behind it has stated that the admiral requires her presence in his study.

She stands to attention, unable to keep from hugging herself. It has been a week at this point and the silence on his end has been deafening. She wonders if he has caught her stealing his scrolls, practicing her forbidden waterbending...another small part of her mind whispers fears that he wishes to continue where they last left off. Katara reminds herself that she has determined he will not be allowed to go that far - she will not let him.

But…

Katara bites her lip. She is taking too long. Unconsciously, she tugs her robe collar closer together and runs a hand halfheartedly through her hair, smoothing it down before following the soldier down the hall.

Flames flicker eerily, as if lighting the way to a dangerous beast...to a lion's den.

The soldier stops, knocking at the Admiral's door, stating that he has brought the waterbender. The deep rumble of the Admiral's voice sends shivers down Katara's spine. Only a week or so and she has forgotten how terrifying it can be.

Katara steps into the room, the soldier shutting the door behind her, and is bemused to see the Admiral sitting at his desk, nearly ignoring her presence save for the brief flicker of his eyes upward and then back to the notes in front of him.

Moments of silence pass, and Katara shifts her weight from one leg to the other. She bites her lip, warily looking around. Her heart hammers against her chest and she is so sure that the Admiral can hear it from across the room.

"Do you know how you possess your ability to waterbend?" He finally asks, his hands steepled together under his chin.

Katara is perplexed. What is he getting at?

"I...I was born with it. I mean, it must have been passed down from some genera -"

Zhao laughs. "No, I mean, do you understand what gives _strength_ to your waterbending?"

"...the moon." She wants to ask questions, but she dares not incite his rage that is always lying dormant, waiting underneath the surface to explode.

Zhao smiles. "The moon and ocean spirits, Tui and La...the Northern Water Tribe seems to be very familiar with them...or so I've been told at least. But that's not important. What _is_ important is the fact that, spirits or not, they can be destroyed. Do you understand what I'm saying, Katara?"

Katara nods mutely.

"We are heading for the Northern Water Tribe." Her heart jumps up in her chest. "I plan on having them swear their allegiance to the Fire Nation once and for all...and if they decide to play coy, then I'll make sure they understand what happens when the wrong answer is given."

Katara can stay silent no longer. "What are you implying, Admiral?" A tremor of panic hitches in her throat, and she mentally curses for sounding so weak.

"Waterbenders draw their power from the moon, the moon is held in balance with water due to the moon and ocean spirits...kill the moon spirit, and I destroy the most powerful source of waterbenders' strength and energy." Katara gasps. "However, if the Northern Water Tribe is willing to bow down, perhaps we don't have to let things go so far."

"Why...why are you telling me this?" Katara barely whispers.

Zhao ignores her question and rises, sizing up Katara. She looks so small and fearful, and he is reminded once again of his power to kill her. But he also sees other things. He sees the softness of her lips, the bright, unfamiliar blue of her eyes, so unlike the Fire Nation's amber ones. He sees her feminine frame hidden beneath her plain, dull robes.

It is confusing, enthralling, but overall the same - he has control over her, just like he will soon have control over the Northern Water Tribe.

Katara stands rooted to her spot, dismayed to know that when it is time to put her abilities to the test, she stands like a frightened lamb. Not that she even knows what she could do...there is no water near her.

Zhao prowls closer to her, hands clasped behind his back. His look is detached, almost as if he is inspecting a soldier. But there is a faint glimmer in his eyes that Katara knows suggests something else. It is happening again, and Katara feels like she is losing the battle from the very start.

He stops inches away from her, and a hand presses against her cheek. It is warm and rough.

Katara's eyes flutter close, as she realizes with disdain that she is too afraid to see what he will do next. She feels the vibration of his laughter through his touch.

"Katara, Katara, Katara…" he muses aloud. "I could end you right here, the same way I could end the Northern Water Tribe with the information I have now. It is astounding how powerless you all ultimately are.

"But then...I don't _quite_ know what to do with you. You've been a skilled healer – there is no denying that. It seems your only crime was being born to the Water Tribe."

Katara feels a brief flash of rage strike her heart.

"I am _proud_ to be from the Water Tribe! There is no crime in that!" She snarls, surprised at her sudden temper and audacity.

Zhao laughs, momentarily pulling his hand away, much to Katara's relief.

"There is that defiance again. I knew I was getting ahead of myself. As troublesome as it is, I can't help but admit that it is entertaining at times." Zhao grins, stepping forward toward her.

Katara instinctively steps back, her feet suddenly remembering how to move. Zhao mirrors her perfectly, and before she knows it, her back is pressed against the wall.

Zhao's lips curve upward into a smirk before descending upon her neck.

With his hands braced against her shoulders, Katara is trapped.

* * *

The great hall is filled with people as dinner is being served. Sokka has to fight to keep drool from spilling out of his mouth upon spotting all the food. After days on end of eating bland, tasteless meals while out at sea, he is sitting before a feast.

Aang sits beside him, seeming less enthused.

"What's wrong, Aang?" Sokka asks through a mouthful. "Aren't you hungry?"

Aang looks over to Sokka on his left and beams. "Well, it all looks good, but I'm vegetarian…"

Sokka's mouth, still full with food, nearly drops. First he's been frozen in an ice block for a century, then he's an airbender, and now a _vegetarian_? Aang's presence at this point is a crime against humanity, Sokka thinks.

"Well, suit yourself," Sokka shrugs, slowly inching his hand toward an untouched bowl of food. Aang nods, and Sokka seizes it with gusto.

"Chief Hakoda, I apologize for interrupting your welcoming feast, but Chief Arnook requests your presence. There are urgent matters that must be discussed."

Hakoda steps up, Bato rising alongside him. They follow the clerk with little hesitation, and suddenly Sokka doesn't feel so hungry. And furthermore, why was he not included?

He looks to Aang who is also staring at the retreating figures. "What do you think that's all about?"

Aang stares past him. "I don't know…" Suddenly, he snaps his attention to Sokka with a boyish grin. "Wanna find out?"

"What?!" Sokka sputters. "How do you exactly plan to do that?"

"Easy," Aang stands up, grasping his glider. "We just follow them. But we should hurry."

Aang immediately takes off and Sokka, helplessly stuck between choosing following the air nomad and eating more food, finally follows suit. On his way out of the hall, he catches sight of the girl, who he has now learned is the _princess_ of the tribe - a _princess_! - and nearly runs into a pole.

Yue laughs once again, and Sokka smiles dreamily back before Aang rounds back upon him and drags him by the sleeve.

"Come on, Sokka! You can talk to Princess Yue later!"

Sokka is snapped out of his daydreams and returns his attention back to Aang. "So why do you care so much what the Water Tribe chiefs are talking about? You've been like...frozen, for a hundred years! What's got you so invested?"

Aang pauses in his running, causing Sokka to skid to an abrupt halt.

"I...I…" Aang stammers, unable to say what he feels he must. Being here, on the northern poles, he can sense spirits. He also remembers a dream of a memory, one in which he can recall his last moments before losing consciousness. He recalls that upon waking up, he has yet to see any airbenders. And most of all, he recalls the look Hakoda gave him upon uttering those words.

There is a sinking feeling in his chest...one that tells him he may never find another like him.

Snapping his attention back to the present, he sees Sokka staring at him, a suddenly serious look on his otherwise relaxed face. "There's something about you, Aang…"

Aang shakes his head. "Come on, Sokka. We need to figure out what your father and Chief Arnook are talking about!"

Sokka stares at Aang's retreating form down the hall and his eyes narrow. He doesn't know much about benders and their culture, but he does know that airbending is a rarer sort in these times. And as if tripped by a wire, his memories lurch back to several years prior, when he and Katara were still children.

He remembers her twirling water about her form, dancing with it as she hummed happily. Sokka, meanwhile, is patting the snow on the ground, forming it into snowballs before letting them drop into dust once again.

"Have you ever wondered about what the Avatar looks like?" Katara asks in a singsong voice, eyes fixated on the water she is bending.

Sokka scrunches his nose. "The Avatar isn't real, Katara. It's just some legend old people talk about."

Katara promptly drops her water with a splash. "That's not true! The last Avatar was Roku, a firebender. And I've heard that if everything follows the cycle, the next Avatar should be an airbender! Can you believe it? Airbenders haven't been heard of in _ages_!" She gushes.

"Katara, how many snowballs have hit your head lately?" Sokka grumbles. "Besides, even if the Avatar was real, it's been like...a hundred years almost. I think it's safer to say the Avatar just doesn't exist."

Katara glares. "You're wrong, Sokka. I'm sure the Avatar is out there somewhere…"

Sokka reels back from his memories and he stares at Aang off in the distance before running to catch up with him.

It can't be, his mind insists. There's no way.

But Sokka, always a nonbeliever, suddenly wonders…

His thoughts are broken by Aang's gesturing to come closer. He is standing behind a set of doors, just barely cracked open, thanks to Aang's stealthy airbending. Sokka kneels down next to the doors with his ear pressed against them, across from Aang who stands stiff.

The voices from inside hazily drift toward their ears.

"The Fire Nation…" Sokka can only catch traces. "Ships set to come…"

Aang's eyes widen.

"Then you must understand the implications!" Hakoda's voice rings out, louder than before. "The Northern Water Tribe can no longer stand idly by! To defend the tribe is to declare yourselves at war with the Fire Nation."

"I'm full aware of that!" Chief Arnook bites out. "I have prayed day after day that it wouldn't come to this, but I see they went largely unanswered."

"You can't protect them forever...you can't protect her forever," Hakoda replies solemnly. "We will do our best to support the North."

Aang grabs Sokka's arm and uses his airbending to get them out of the area before they can be spotted.

As soon as they round a corner, Aang wheels on Sokka. "Do you understand what's happening?! The Fire Nation is coming to attack the Northern Water Tribe!"

* * *

Katara's mind has gone numb. For a moment, all she can feel is the Admiral's touch. All she can smell is him, all she can see is him. As a last mode of defense, her mind erects a barrier, and everything suddenly seems detached. It's as if she can see herself, and Zhao, and it bothers her, but at the same time, it seems so unreal.

Katara is jolted to her senses when his lips catch hers and his hand snakes around the back of her head, gripping her tighter. Suddenly dizzy with the weight of what is happening, Katara feels a flash of fury rip across her. Without thinking, she bites down on his lip. Hard.

The Admiral draws back quickly and curses, rubbing the back of his hand against his lips. He is somewhat startled to see that the frail waterbender has managed to draw blood. He should feel angry, insulted...but he only laughs.

What an interesting game this is turning out to be.

Katara watches warily, nervous about the different looks dancing across the Admiral's face. She has no idea what he is thinking, but she doesn't have the time or energy to care.

With little thought, Katara bolts toward the door.

Zhao is fast and with his arm, catches her across her chest, sending her stumbling back.

"No, I don't think so."

He easily catches her once more, but Katara is not willing to freeze this time. She claws at him and struggles against his grip, managing to fall out of his grasp. His eyes darken, but a smile slowly emerges on his face.

"It seems I underestimated you, Katara. You still have some fight left. And I was so close to breaking you."

He nearly barks with laughter when he sees Katara slide into an offensive stance.

"There's no water here, girl! Have you lost your senses?"

Katara doesn't react. Water may not be visible, but it doesn't mean it isn't present.

Her mind, as if on autopilot, a separate entity from herself, recalls the scrolls she so desperately fought to forget.

She moves her body without even thinking, and her hands push and pull as if she is controlling the tides. Zhao stares at her incredulously, his features switching rapidly between awe and snarling with irritation.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He barks, gritting his teeth. It is no longer amusing. For once, though he would never dare admit this, he feels a small ounce of fear looking into the waterbender's eyes. She appears as if she has gone mad and lost all sense of self and reason.

At first, nothing seems to happen. Katara's brows furrow together as she concentrates harder.

And then, she sees it. It is barely there, barely noticeable…but she sees it.

The faint twitching of Zhao's finger. She realizes that despite only having images, it is enough. And with even more thought, realizes that the full moon must be present. She almost laughs at how lucky she has gotten.

Katara moves her hands again, spreading her palms out, feeling the water even where she cannot see it. This time, the results are more dramatic.

Zhao's arm seems to swing up briefly of its own accord. He stares with shock and then his gaze turns to Katara, face filling with rage.

"You little bitch!" He snarls, charging forward.

He slams Katara against the wall, and she cries out in pain as the back of her skull connects with metal.

"I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but it won't last long," he breathes into her ear, ignoring her struggles. "Should I break your hands?" He mockingly asks, suddenly grabbing her left hand roughly. "What if I broke every little finger?"

Katara sobs, mind running frantically at the thought of losing her hands, her precious hands that give her the ability to do what she loves most. "I won't have a healer, but what does it matter? I hear the north has plenty to spare."

Zhao breathes roughly through his nose, small spurts of steam coming out. He steps back slowly, as if giving space to a cornered, wild animal. He thinks he really should break her hands.

"Now…" he breathes in slowly, regaining his composure as best he can, "tell me what you just did."

Katara remains mute. She will not share. He clearly doesn't know, despite having possessed the knowledge all along, right here in his study. It's almost laughable at how daft he can be.

"Do not test me, Katara."

She closes her eyes in response, drawing in small, quiet breaths of air.

"Katara!" He barks, moving to come closer.

Suddenly, she opens her eyes and slides into a stance smoothly, focusing her eyes and energy on a weak point. She can feel it, so faintly, as if a light silken cloth is caressing her fingers. Zhao ignores her this time, moving closer to her.

And then, she does it. Her palms spread outward and she feels the water, the blood, in his body moving around, swirling through her fingers like metal drawn to a magnet.

His face suddenly contorts in pain and bewilderment as his head tilts to the side. Her hands rapidly move again, and Zhao is hit with the weight of his realization like a ton of bricks.

She is waterbending.

No, not waterbending.

Bloodbending.

He attempts to move but finds that his whole body is immobile. How in the hell did she ever learn something like this?

Zhao grits his teeth, attempting to push back against her movements, fighting his own body. He stretches out his arm, as if to grab her, but he can't. Katara's eyes darken as she continues focusing on the task at hand. She feels as if she has lost control of her own actions, like someone else has possessed her.

And suddenly, as if woken from a trance, Katara releases from her stance and is shocked at what she is seeing.

Zhao, on his knees, gurgling in the most horrendous of ways as his neck is turned at an angle that is near impossible and grotesque.

Within several seconds, the admiral falls to the floor entirely, unmoving.

Katara's eyes widen with shock.

She has bloodbended.

She has bloodbended and _killed_ him.

Katara is gripping at her hair, pulling loose the small bun that normally sits atop it. She is screaming but nothing comes out. Katara falls to her knees, staring in horror at what she has done.

Listlessly, she stares at her hands, palms open upwards toward her. These hands that were meant to heal, to preserve life, have just killed.

Panic begins to set in. What does she do now? They will find out she has killed their admiral, and then they will kill her in return. As her mind whirls about, loud explosions rock the ship. Katara pauses in her crying, staring upward.

Is there a battle?

Katara can hear the muffled yells of soldiers and things knocking into the ship, but it is far too confusing to make anything else out. She hesitates between leaving the room and waiting to learn more. This could be the perfect distraction required for her to escape unnoticed.

But then where would she go? She knows they are setting course for the Northern Water Tribe, but she is lost as to just how far they are from their destination.

As she frantically roves her eyes around the room, purposefully ignoring Zhao's prone body on the floor, there is a banging at the door. Katara gasps, wondering if a Fire Nation soldier has noticed the admiral's missing presence, especially in the midst of what sounds like a battle raging on up above.

Katara looks down shakily, still on her knees, waiting for her fate.

A shadow falls across the floor, barely outlined by the faint flickering of the torches lining the hall outside.

"What the hell…" the voice murmurs.

The figure steps inside, but Katara keeps her eyes averted.

"What have we here…" the man whispers, a hint of awe tingeing his voice. There is a brief pause and the man kneels down next to Katara, lifting her chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

She is startled to see a young man's face, very clearly dressed in clothing different from the Fire Nation. And then she spots it - an Earth Kingdom pin clasped to his shirt collar. She wonders if he wears his with pride the way she wears hers.

As if noticing at the same time, the man whistles as he catches sight of her Water Tribe pin. "A Water Tribe girl! Well, well, well…" he slowly smiles. And then, as if noticing for the first time, he turns to look at the lifeless body next to her.

He looks back and forth between Katara and Zhao's body, before a grin breaks out on his face. "Did you do this?! Are you a waterbender?" He gestures at the body.

Katara barely nods, but the man seems to understand all the same. "Shit, you're not one to mess with!" He laughs, almost boyishly. Katara fails to see the humor in the situation.

"Well, I see you're from the Water Tribe, and this ship seems like it was setting course for the Northern Water Tribe. We could take you there, me and my crew."

Katara looks up, jolted by thoughts of home...or well, a place similar to home. A place where waterbenders seem to thrive. She has always wanted to visit...just never in these circumstances.

"What about...the Southern Water Tribe? It's where I'm from…" she whispers, looking down and fiddling with her Water Tribe pin.

"Southern Water Tribe?" The man's voice sounds incredulous. "The Southern Water Tribe has been wiped out for some time now. It was completely decimated by the Fire Nation...how long have you been gone?"

Katara's world is spinning. The faint urge to throw up overcomes her and she wretches. Thoughts of her home, of her family, of Zhao overcome her and she feels like she is being thrown into a void.

It all proves to be too much, and the last thing she remembers is the stranger catching her in his arms as she loses herself to unconsciousness.

* * *

AN: Ding dong, the admiral is dead! Forgive me if Katara seemed too OP with her bloodbending, but hey, the series itself portrayed her as a remarkably quick learner with it, sooo…~ ANYWAY, please leave reviews with your thoughts/comments/crits. Always appreciated! Also, sorry for the short Zuzu appearance...he'll get his time in the spotlight soon enough.


End file.
